#LovePoem

Sustainable Love- A Concrete (Visual) Poetry

Image of a person adding compost to their rose plant.
PC: Designed by the Author using Canva

Hey there, poetry lovers! In my last post, we dove into the world of concrete poetry—a fascinating form of visual poetry where the words on the page shape themselves into a picture that embodies the poem’s theme. Today, I’m excited to share an example of this with you: my poem titled “Sustainable Love.” This piece is about comparing love’s nurturing process to composting, and I’ve shaped it like a garden tool—a shovel! Let’s dig into the thought process behind this creative choice.

Sustainable Love

Love, like 
composting,

by nature
takes time
to nurture
& g r o w
in rhythm
& rhyme.
It starts in
small bits,
like scraps
of h e a r t
then layers
of c a r e
slooowly
built up.
The scraps
seemingly useless
too broken to mend
blend and transcend
with patience and warmth
into something new, rich and full of life,
a foundation for growth, amidst toil & strife.
Like compost needing air , water , & sun,
love needs care , communication , & fun.
Love's to be tended , to prevent it from rot,
to keep it dynamic and full of thought.
Dear, take time, with your love, as you do,
with composting , daily , a little more anew.
create something , that's long-lasting & true,
a love that's sustainable & always anew.


Why a Shovel? The Thought Process Behind the Shape

When I first penned “Sustainable Love,” it followed a standard stanza format. But as I played around with the structure, I found myself inspired to mould it into a shovel—a tool that perfectly symbolizes the nurturing process I wanted to convey. Now, let’s break down the themes and how the visual structure of this poem brings them to life.

Thematic Analysis: How Composting and Love Are Alike

Love Takes Time, Just Like Composting

At the heart of this poem is a comparison between love and composting. Both require patience and care to truly flourish. Just as composting starts with small scraps—tiny bits that might seem insignificant—love often begins with small acts or gestures. These “scraps of the heart” may appear useless at first, but with the right care, they become the building blocks of something much more substantial.

Growth and Renewal

In the same way that composting transforms scraps into rich, fertile soil, love grows and renews through patience and warmth. The repeated emphasis on time—phrases like “takes time,” “slooowly,” and “daily, a little more anew”—highlights the ongoing effort needed to maintain a healthy, sustainable love. Even the most broken parts of ourselves can be mended and turned into something beautiful when nurtured with care.

Care and Communication Are Essential

Just as compost needs air, water, and sunlight to break down and enrich the soil, love requires care, communication, and a bit of fun to stay vibrant. Without these key elements, love can, like neglected compost, become stagnant. It’s all about tending to love regularly, keeping it dynamic and full of thought.

Visual Structure: Why the Shovel Shape Matters

Shovel Shape: A Symbol of Effort and Transformation

The shovel shape is a conscious design choice as I believe it’s a powerful symbol of the effort and transformation that love requires. In composting, the shovel is essential for turning, mixing, and aerating the compost pile, helping it decompose into something rich and life-giving. Similarly, love requires us to dig deep, turn over our emotions, and work through challenges to create something sustaining.

Handle and Blade: The Foundation and Work of Love

The handle of the shovel, formed by the narrow, tightly aligned first few lines, represents the grip or foundation of the poem’s message. As the poem broadens into the blade of the shovel, it symbolizes where the real work of love (and composting) happens—transforming the ordinary into something extraordinary.

Wrapping It All Up: The Power of Visual Poetry

In “Sustainable Love,” the shovel shape isn’t just for show—it’s an integral part of the poem’s meaning. This shape reinforces the central metaphor of love as a process that requires the right tools, patience, and effort to grow into something truly sustainable and renewing. Just like composting, love is a journey of transformation, and this poem visually embodies that journey.

I hope this exploration of “Sustainable Love” gives you a fresh perspective on both love and the art of concrete poetry. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts—drop a comment below and let’s chat!

Suggested Read:

அம்மாவின் சாம்பார் பொடி – ஓர் கவிதை

P.C: Canva

இத்தோடு ஈரேழு முறை 
சொல்லிக் கொடுத்து விட்டாள்—
 சாம்பார் பொடி வீட்டிலேயே செய்யும் முறை 
மனம் கேட்கவில்லை
ஒருவேளை சோம்பேறித்தனமோ? 
இருக்கலாம்!

பல தடவை பக்கத்து கடைக்கும் 
போய் வந்தாகிவிட்டது 
சாம்பார் பொடி பாக்கெட்டில் இருந்தும் 
 வாங்க மறுத்தது மனம்...

அம்மா தொலைபேசியில் உறுதி அளித்தாள் —
'கவலைப்படாதே நான் சொல்லும்படி செய்தால் 
என் கை மணம் அதில் வரும்'
  இருந்தும் ஏற்க மனமில்லை

மனதின் எதோ ஒரு மூலையிலிருந்து வரும் 
 அந்த ஏக்கமே அறியும் 
ஏறிக்கொண்டிருக்கும் அம்மாவின் வயதை 
ஏற்க மனமில்லாமல் 
கடத்திக்கொண்டு  பொத்திவைக்க பார்க்கிறேன் 
அவள் அரைத்து அனுப்பும் சாம்பார் பொடியையும் 
அவள் ஆயுளையும் —
 என் சமையலறை டப்பாவில்...


Written as part of #BlogchatterFoodFest.


Milk and Mends : A Poem on Navigating Love with Food

An image of a cup of rose milk garnished with rose petals
P.C: Canva

Here’s a poem called “Milk and Mends” that’s all about those tender moments in our relationships where love and forgiveness come into play, especially in the kitchen. You know, those simple gestures and little culinary mishaps that somehow lead to a deeper understanding and bring us closer together. I hope you find it as touching as I do, and that it reminds you of the beautiful ways we mend our hearts with the ones we love. Also let me know what do you think is the relationship of the poet and the other person in this poem?

Milk and Mends

He whispered in my ear, 
"There's a gift awaiting in the kitchen."  
I rushed to our little haven,  
To be welcomed by  
The burnt smell of milk cream,  
Spills marking a map to a world unknown.  

Oh wait, I see a little waterfall  
Forming a puddle under the granite slab, 
And four tiles away from it,  
Two small cups half-filled with milk,  
Rose petals on a royal bath,  
Pampered with a sprinkle of cocoa powder.  

I turn back to look at him— 
A sorry face cuts through him,  
For the fight last night 
Over unfinished homework.  

Written as part of #BlogchatterFoodFest.

Thou Art Love- A Poem

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I sought love, I believed
& you happened to me
I brimmed with love, I believed
& you happened to me
I was deserted by love, I believed
& you happened to me
I was out of love, I believed,
& you happened to me
I was in & out of love, I believed
& you happened to me
I believed in the transient tales of love
that tricked me to believe love 
to be a guest at my door
welcomed and discarded at will
That love can happen
& unhappen
That love can be felt
& unfelt
That love can be confined
& unconfined
I believed in the transient tales of love
& you happened to me
only to realize the promise
of an eternal embrace by Thou-
love that’s transcendent...
Thou art love!

எங்கு எழுகிறது காதல்- ஓர் கவிதை

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எங்கு எழுகிறது காதல்?

புல்  நுனி பனித்துளிகள் படும் 
பட்டு பாதங்களிலா ?

தொட்டும் தொடாமலும் 
பட்டும் படாமலும் 
தென்றல் முத்தமிட்டுச்செல்லும் 
மலர் மேனியிலா ?

கார்மேகமும் கதிரவனும் ஆடும் 
கண்ணாம்பூச்சி  ஆட்டத்தை 
காணும் கண்களிலா ?

ருதுவான அன்பின் மொழி 
அமைதியின்  அரவணைப்பில் 
ரீங்காரமாய் ஒலிக்கும் செவிகளிலா ?

முத்தமிட்டு ஒப்பந்தம் செய்த 
விண்ணுக்கும் -மண்ணுக்குமான 
காதலை மண்வாசனையில் 
நுகரும் நாசிகளிலா ?

உன்னோடு உறவாடும் வேளையில் 
நேசக்கடல் நீர்வீழ்ச்சியாய் எழும் 
நெஞ்ச குழியிலா? 

தென்றலிலா?
தொடுதலிலா ?

காற்றிலா?
காரணத்திலா ?

உறவிலா?
ஊடலிலா ?

மயக்கத்திலா ?
மதியிலா ?

மௌனத்திலா?
மரணத்திலா ?

உன்னிலா?
 என்னிலா?

எங்கு எழுகிறது காதல்?
தெரிந்தால் எனக்குச் சொல் 

எங்கிருந்து எழுகிறதோ 
கட்டுக்கடங்காத காதல் 
அங்கேயே  நான் 
உடன் கட்டை ஏறிவிடுவேன் 

எங்கு எழுகிறது காதல்?
தெரிந்தால் எனக்குச் சொல்!

Goodbyes Can Be Hellos Too- A Poem

PC: Designed by the Author using Canva
In the hidden depths of the womb's cocoon,
A soft bundle of pink begins to bloom,
Nurtured in darkness, yet longing for light,
Crying for that first breath, held close to mother's sight.

An uninvited intruder, a pearl in a shell,
Nourished in confinement, in solitude to dwell,
Emerging polished, shining with glee,
A treasure for all, in a jeweller's gallery to be.

A wanderer caterpillar, seeking to transform,
Digesting self, in a cocoon it will conform,
Hanging upside down, a colourful shroud,
Emerging winged, a bewitching butterfly, proud.

Uncertain of a start anew,
Journey of transformation, through and through
A fresh avenue, sought out by few,
For goodbyes can be hellos too.

Redemption by the Coast- A love poem

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Redemption by the Coast- A love poem

Being a single mother by the day, 
A stripper by night, with no other way, 
My life felt mechanical and cold, 
With no room to let my emotions unfold.

The ticking of the clock kept me on track, 
But my heart's song I failed to keep in track. 
The stripping tore me apart every day, 
I felt like a machine with nothing to say.

Then came a man who proved me wrong, 
Listening to my stories all along. 
He didn't care about my past or my tears, 
Only that he could father my little dear.

He held my hand firmly but with a gentle touch, 
Making me feel like I deserved love this much.
 For once, my heart sang a different tune, 
And I forgot the tick-tock rhythm so soon.

We walked along the coast, away from the night, 
And for the first time, everything felt just right. 
Behind a wrecked catamaran, we took our rest, 
My skin felt his touch, and my heart felt blessed.

My eyes sparkled with tears of pure joy, 
As I looked into his eyes, like a starry sky.
 I wanted to whisper a secret to his lips, 
To let him know of my passionate grips.

As the wind blew against his face,
 I yearned for his kisses, with an intense pace. 
And when I looked at him again, 
His lips were tinted with fuchsia, like mine then.

Boundless Beauty: A Soul’s Longing

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From a hilltop view,
 I see the vast expanse above, 
a boundless beauty. 
My soul, trapped in mortal form, 
longs to soar free like the sky.